Reborn
by madisontaylor22
Summary: After Lori's death, Rick struggles to stay sane for the sake of his son and newborn daughter. When he meets someone new, can he learn to let go and give in to his passions, or will his pain overcome. Rating subject to change. Rick/OC


Hey guys, I figured with the return of Walking Dead I would try this story out. I hope you like and leave feedback! :)

PS: The Walking Dead storyline will play in in the first chapter.

Prologue

Paperwork on paperwork on paperwork.

I stared down at the huge stack of documents before me and sighed. It would take a miracle to get through the day.

I stood up and smoothed my pencil skirt, walking to the window. The sun pierced the sky with vibrant rays of yellow with barely any clouds to cover the bustling city-goers below. It was a beautiful Atlanta day, and I struggled momentarily with the fact that I'd be locked up in an office for another four hours.

A small knock on the door stole my attention and I turned to the glass walls surrounding my office. A short redhead peered through the door, her glasses placed dangerously at the tip of her nose. "Miss Jameson?"

"Please, Alexis, call me Sophia." I attempted to mask my frustration. I never wanted my receptionist's to think of me as anything but a friend. That's why I had been so upset that Stacy had decided to take maternity leave last year, and regrettably, never returned.

Stacy had been there with me since the beginning. Ever since I'd climbed to the tallest office in the building. She was there, a cup of coffee in hand, and the latest gossip at the tip of her tongue. Sometimes she would just distract me of my work by reading the latest Johnny Depp news in the People Magazine, or complaining about her mother, someone I would never be enticed to meet.

It isn't that Alexis was an inefficient worker, she was tedious, but she was young, and very intimidated by me. If I tried to discuss the latest scandal, and she would shy away, as if she were allergic to the rumors of the office. She shuffled into the room and set a cup of coffee on my desk.

"Have you turned on the news?" she asked in a quiet voice.

I cocked my head at her. Asking me a question? I almost couldn't believe it. This certainly was a first. "No, I have not. Why? Did Kim Kardashian break a nail?" I chuckled at my little joke but Alexis merely stared.

"No. Apparently some virus is breaking out in New York, I think. Everyone is talking about it. People have even been placed in quarantine."

Now that _was_ interesting. Another swine flu break out? I bit my lip and wandered back over to my desk. "Wow. Well, thank you for the coffee. And the update. Do I have any messages?"

"No ma'am." She watched me curiously before her eyes flew to the floor.

"Is there anything else…?" I pondered. She wasn't leaving, but she wasn't talking either.

"Well…" she continued to stare at her feet. "This virus thing is getting pretty… Serious. People all over the world are freaking out. And it's spreading, fast. A lot of people are getting the day off to go home and stay inside…" she trailed off and looked at me with hopeful brown eyes. "Do you think I…?"

"Alexis, I'm sure this is nothing. But if you're that concerned, you can have the rest of the day off. I've just got paperwork to do, and I won't be needing your help for that. Just be here tomorrow."

"Oh, thank you!"

I took a mental photo; seeing as this was the only time I'd remembered seeing any emotion other than fear on the small receptionist's face.

"You're welcome."

She began to turn around, her pale legs moving so fast I thought they'd disappeared completely. But she stopped with her hand on the doorknob and turned partially facing me. "Miss Jameson—I mean Sophia. I do think you should turn on the news. It's getting crazy out there." And with that, she walked out the door.

I took a sip of coffee from the steaming white Styrofoam cup and winced. Stacy had always known the right amount of sugar and crème. Setting the strong drink back on the wooden surface, I leaned back into my comfy leather chair and folded my hands around my head. Do I dare turn on the news? Or will I be unnecessarily worried about a fluke of a "pandemic", the word the news just loved to make use of. I picked up the remote and pointed it at the TV, but then stopped myself.

Through the glass of my office, I could see all of my coworkers and employees working in tandem. The news was playing, but I saw no trace of a virus. I suddenly wondered if Alexis had made it up in order to get out of work. I thought that might be a good excuse to fire her.

Feeling my muscles relax, I turned my attention back to few undeveloped books sitting atop the desk. I ran my fingers over the top one. _The Moby Duck. "_A "hilarious" play on the old novel that will leave its readers in tears". I rolled my eyes and flipped the page over.

_Maybe tears of pain_, I thought melodramatically.

After scanning two pages I ran my fingers through my brown hair. There was no way in Hell I was going to get these papers done and edited in three and a half hours. Briefly, I thought about using this "virus" to my own advantage to get my_self_ out of work.

I decided a break would do me good, so I walked out of the office and into the kill-zone. Phones rang one after the other, with flustered employees racing back and forward across the room, piles of documents in their arms. I knew the company was busy, but was it always _this _busy? It was only Tuesday, which was usually our laziest day of the week. I shouldered through a few employees and walked into the break room.

The news was on in this room, and across the bottom of the screen in flashing red letters was _Country in Chaos_. I took a step closer and found Marty, a coworker I considered sort of a friend and watched the news reporter talk.

"What's going on?" I whispered to him. There were at least ten other people crowding around the small television with us.

"A virus broke out in New York today. At least, they think that's where it originated," he answered, his eyes never leaving the screen.

"What kind of virus? Flu?"

"If it's the flu, it isn't like one I've ever seen," he glanced at me briefly as the news screen changed to footage showing a patient in the hospital. She was tied down, with doctors and nurses flooding the room. The video looked like it was shot on a phone.

The woman snarled beneath her ties, her eyes yellow where they should've been white. Her mouth was red, and her teeth snapped at any nurse that got too close. I gasped and felt my heart flutter.

"What _is_ that?" I breathed through my hand.

"It's the virus. I think the president's going to call a nationwide panic situation. I think every business will shut down for the time being, to prevent the spread."

"Are you serious?" I looked around the room. Everyone's face looked just as worried and panicked as I imagined mine was. "This can't be real."

"It is. I'm just waiting for the announcement to go home." He shook his head when the footage was finally cut back to the newswoman.

She pressed a finger to her ear and nodded. "At this time, the president is issuing a nationwide pandemic."

More gasps hushed the room and more and more people piled in behind us. "Go home to your loved ones, keep sanitized and stay out of public areas," she droned on.

"Better do as she says. If you need anything, you have my number." Marty briefly placed his hand on my shoulder and then moved past the crowd, and out of the room.

After a brief moment of disbelief, I followed his lead and brushed past employees, doing my best to keep out of touch. The larger room was a different sight than before. It seems everyone had gotten word of the president's ruling, and the place was a madhouse. People crying, wailing, pacing, running around the room and yelling at one another. I kept my distance and cringed all the way back to my room, locking the door behind me.

I took a moment to practice breathing and looked outside the window again. Instead of the occasional runner or bicycler, it seemed nobody was walking at all. Everyone was racing through the streets; the traffic was backed up for miles. I suddenly valued the distance between me and the ground, but I knew I'd need to get home.

The virus couldn't of spread from New York to Georgia by now, right? That was impossible. I shuddered and once again, took deep yoga breaths. I looked out of the office and shook my head. I needed to be strong and get home.

I gathered some of my framed pictures and shoved them into my purse, checking all of the drawers but finding nothing but worthless pens and staplers. After throwing my cross bag over my shoulder and tying my hair into a ponytail, I rushed out of the room.

The elevators weren't an option. Too many people. I walked to the stairwell and flew down the stairs, although there were fourteen stories and many people, I made my way down fairly quickly and pushed open the exit doors.

The parking garage was even worse. Cars hitting each other, driver's screaming, their fists out the window, honking horns and car alarms blaring. I struggled to remember where I parked. I chose to run right and searched the spaces for my dark grey Mercedes. After scanning for a few moments, I found it in the corner and unlocked the door.

"Give me the keys." I heard the click of a gun.

I slowly stood straight and faced my attacker. He was a janitor in the building, but I didn't know his name. His dark brown eyes peered into my green ones and he held the gun inches from my face. "Please," I whispered, struggling to keep the waterfall of tears from falling down my cheeks.

"I need those keys."

I bit my lip, my mind racing. I glanced around the garage. Everybody was too concerned for themselves to notice what was happening to me. I was about to give them up when a sudden ray of hope flashed in my brain.

I clumsily dropped my purse, my keys along with it and put my hands up. "Okay, sorry," I stammered.

"Pick them up!" he demanded, looking around the room while I bent down.

In one fluid moment I unzipped the pocket on the outside of the purse before abruptly standing up and drenching my distracted assailant's face with pepper spray.

He fell to his knees and dropped his weapon in agony. I picked up my purse and keys and the gun, for good measure, and stepped into my car. I pressed the automatic start and sped out of the parking lot, not looking back to see how the perpetrator was doing.

I wound the small car through all openings and was soon out on the open road. Well, as open as it could be. I trailed along slowly and was thankful when I sped off my exit and raced to the turn off to my neighborhood.

It was quieter now, the road seemed almost barren. Cars hastily pulled into driveways, some left open and abandoned on the middle of the street. A couple of children's bikes lay on their side next to curbs and a dog roamed the sidewalks with a leash still attached. Feeling a soft spot for animals, I stopped the car and clucked to it, but it trotted to a door of a home and leapt through the doggy door, not even sparing me a glance.

I finally got to my home and pulled into the garage. I took a moment to catch my breath, stole a glance at the pistol on the seat beside me, and then walked into the house. Everything seemed normal; the house was quiet, and just the same as I left it. I walked into the kitchen and immediately checked my messages. I had eight.

Four from my parents, three from my sister, and one from Marty. Marty's was first.

"Hey, Sophia. It's Marty," his tone was stressed. "Look, I was driving home… The virus… It's spread here." He took a few more deep breaths. "I just wanted to warn you. Don't let the affected touch you. Remember; call me if you need me. And good luck."

The line went dead.

After calling my parents and assuring them I was okay and would come over as soon as possible, I got on the phone with my sister. She was hysterical.

"I don't know what to do, Logan hasn't come home from school, he won't answer his cell," she sobbed into the phone. "What if he's infected, what if he's dead!" she wailed.

"Erin. Don't think that way." I closed my eyes and leaned the back of my head against the wall. "He's probably fine, maybe the school had a lockdown. Have you talked to Ryan?"

"He's at work. He said he would go to the school to check on everything, but he doesn't seem concerned about this at all! Doesn't surprise me, he was never concerned about anything," her voice sneered.

"Maybe he's right, Erin. "Just stay inside and keep trying his cell. Call the school. Do you have any of his friend's numbers? I'm sure he's fine."

"Have you seen the news, Sophia? This is not fine! This virus… It makes you a cannibal!"

Well, _that_ was different. I shook my head.

"I'll come over."

"Thank you," she breathed. "I'll keep calling him."

"Okay."

After muttering a goodbye, I hung up the phone and raced up to my room. Tearing off my work clothes I threw on a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt and a pair of leather boots. I piled clothes, shoes, jewelry and photo albums into a large duffel bag and grabbed toiletries from the bathroom. After adjusting my poorly thrown together ponytail, I redid my hair and searched around for any more necessities. I grabbed my laptop just in case, some food from the pantry, and also a couple steak knives.

After shoving a few other items including my favorite books into the trunk of the car, I pulled out of the garage, and screamed.

A man- or what I thought was a man- limped towards the opening garage. He looked normal except for the bone protruding from his bare calf and the hungry glint in his yellowed eyes. He moved towards me as quickly as he could with his dud leg, and I, gathering my bearings, pressed the gas and zoomed past him, the corner of the Mercedes slamming into his good leg.

The neighborhood was in a frenzy. Infected rampaged through the streets, chasing the uninfected. They were barging through doors and breaking through windows. I watched them briefly. They seemed almost brain-dead, besides the obvious want for one thing: food.

I snapped out of my thoughts when a body slammed against my car, the person's mouth chomping against the air. I stomped on the gas pedal and shot down the street, ignoring every person or infected running by. I sped out the neighborhood and raced down to the highway.

After an hour-long drive, I parked in Erin's driveway.

Her neighborhood was quiet, and I silently hoped that maybe the infection hadn't reached her town yet. I walked up to the front door and held my fist up to knock, when I noticed the door was already slightly ajar.

"Hello?" I opened the door a little more and stuck my head inside. The house was silent. "Erin?" I called again, my heart pounding mercilessly.

No answer.

I went to walk through the door when a thought rang through my head. I raced back to my car and pulled the gun out of the glove box, and then headed back into the house. I heard the muffle of the TV playing from the kitchen and walked into the room. Sweat trickled down from my hairline and I wiped it away, struggling to keep my breath steady.

"Erin?" I whispered. I heard a loud stomp from upstairs and jumped.

I walked stealthily to the staircase and made my way up. The noise came from Logan's room. I walked to the room and found the door partly open. I put the gun in the opening first, like I'd seen in so many crime shows, and then threw open the door.

Logan looked up from the floor; his suitcase lay out before him as he threw basketball shorts and jeans inside. His face was scrunched into a horrible frown.

"Logan," I breathed, lowering the gun mechanically. "Didn't you hear me calling?" He said nothing, just abruptly stood up, stomping into the closet to get more clothes.

"Logan?" I said again.

He ignored me.

"Logan!" I grabbed his arm on his way back to the closet and he spun to me angrily. Hot tears streamed down his face and he clenched his fists, pulling out of my grasp.

"What?" he snapped.

"Where's your mom? What's going on?"

"She's dead."

My heart fell to the tips of my toes. "W-What?"

"Her room," he muttered, before trudging back to the closet.

After a moment of struggling to reconcile myself, I walked slowly to her bedroom.

I saw the blood before I saw the body. It pooled up and soaked into the white carpet. There was so much it almost looked black. I slowly stepped to the other side of the bed and dropped the gun.

There was a knife. She had been stabbed several times, but the hole in her head was the one that drew my eyes. And her eyes, which were still partly open, were yellowed. They were yellowed and bloodshot. Drool and blood mixed together at the corner of her mouth. There was a bite-mark on her neck.

I sank to my knees and felt a body fall to the floor next to mine.

Logan looked down at his mother with sad eyes. "You know I had to, right?" he whimpered. "She was going to kill me. I had to do it. I had to."

I bit my lip and nodded, draping my arm around his back and crying softly into his shoulder while he cried into my hair.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. I wasn't sure if he was talking to me.

After I'd composed myself somewhat, I pulled away from the teenagers arm and tried to find my voice. "W-Who?" I motioned towards the bite.

"Dad's in the garage."

I shut my eyes.

"He must've come home to check on her. She went out into the garage and he was infected. He must've bit her, and then she ran upstairs. I found her in here when I got home." His voice was steady now.

"Okay." I wrapped my brain around it. "Okay. It's okay," I said. "We're going to be fine. We are," I forced a smile and squeezed his shoulder.

"We need to leave. Please." He stood up.

"Okay. Get packed. We're going to your grandparents."

He nodded slightly, and with one last look, he walked away.

As I stared at my sister's lifeless body, I couldn't believe what had happened. Maybe if I'd got here sooner… I trailed off and let out another helpless sob. I didn't want to leave her this way, but I didn't want to be outside with no protection for a long time either. I wondered if Logan would want to bury them. I figured it was only right to do, so while Logan packed I went into the garage, tiptoed past Ryan's dead body and grabbed the shovel off the wall.

I walked out to the fenced-in backyard and began to shovel furiously. It was harder than I thought, but luckily the sun had gone down somewhat, so I never got too hot. After I had finished one, Logan walked out with another shovel and helped.

He carried Erin's body downstairs, and Ryan's body from the garage. Pushing their corpses into the holes, we each took turns pouring dirt on them until they were sufficiently covered. Then, we stood. We stood before their graves and we bowed our heads and I asked if he wanted to say something.

"They were great parents. Even though they didn't get along a lot, they were great parents." He sniffed and wiped a tear from his cheek with his sleeve

"They were," I agreed, "Erin was a great sister. And Ryan always tried his hardest." I leaned my head against Logan's shoulder, and after about ten minutes, we went inside.

"So what's the plan," Logan asked, leaning against the counter.

"We'll go to your grandparents first. Keep them safe," I replied. "But we'll head out tomorrow morning. It's getting too late now, and I could use a shower.

"Okay." He stared at the TV. He was taller than me, and he was only seventeen. His broad shoulders were tense and his brown eyes scanned the emergency broadcast taking up the screen. His dark brown hair that matched my sister's and mine was short, styled the way she liked it. He had a "grown-up haircut" now, as Erin put it. She loved it like that.

"Will you want to shower?" I now noticed the blood splattered on his outfit.

"Yeah. You can shower in my Mom's and I'll shower in mine."

"Okay."

I walked quickly back to my car and grabbed my duffle bag and headed upstairs. I winced when I passed the blood spot and went straight for the shower. Sluggishly pulling off my clothes, I stepped into the walk in shower and turned the water to hot.

I slowly shampooed and conditioned my hair, and was almost through with washing my body when the water abruptly shut off. I muttered a curse, and stepped out, wrapping a towel around my body just before the lights went out.

It was almost pitch-black in the bathroom, so I shimmied my way to my bag and pulled out my cell-phone, using the screen as light. I pulled on one of my sister's robes and opened the door. "Logan?"

He ran up the stairs and handed me a flashlight. "I just finished showering. The power's out."

"Okay. We'll leave at dawn."

"Sounds good." Before he turned around he stared at the floor. "Do you mind, uh, sleeping in my room? I don't want to do anything… stupid."

I saw the hurt and guilt in his eyes and I nodded. "Of course. I'll be right in."

After I'd braided my hair and put on a pair of flannel pajamas, I walked into Erin's closet and fingered through the shirts she had folded in a drawer. She called this her "junk t-shirt" drawer so I picked out a neon red t-shirt she'd gotten free for donating blood and slipped it over my head. I struggled to see myself in the dark reflection of the mirror, wiped away a tear, and then headed to Logan's room.

As I lay on the floor, my eyes glued to the ceiling, my brain pounded with thousands of thoughts racing by. I thought about the past: how just a few hours ago I was in my coffee, missing Stacy's social skills and wondering how I'd finish the paperwork. I thought about the present: how I was sleeping on the floor of my nephew's room, while he silently cried in his bed because he was forced to kill his own parents. And I thought about the future. Where would we go? What if, God forbid, mom and dad had been infected? And if they weren't, where would I take them? I felt the weight of the world press against my shoulders and I curled into a ball, bit my lip so hard that it started to bleed, and cried until I fell asleep.

And that, was only the beginning.


End file.
